


Letters to and from Sebastian

by byebyebluejay



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bad Poetry, Crack, I Don't Even Know, I mean, I wrote it so I'm posting it, Limericks, M/M, Sonnets, it's pretty bad, maybe worth a giggle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-24 21:09:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10749867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/byebyebluejay/pseuds/byebyebluejay
Summary: When Sebastian is on missions abroad, he puts his master's degree in English to very questionable use.





	Letters to and from Sebastian

FEBRUARY 19TH, FROM SEBASTIAN  
I’ll see you in the summertime  
When you arrive  
A migratory bird  
Your arms thrown wide to greet your favourite haunts  
The pleats in aging mountains’ skirts  
The broad floodplains  
Their sin-dark earth baked hard  
The sluggish rivers left abandoned by the rain.

The air will tense at your return  
Breeze tainted by the ozone of your sweat  
And who could blame the tin roofs holding spite  
When in your absence they forgot your song?

I miss you. The nights are long without you. The sky’s too broad without your glamour.  
I’ll pine for you in February. I’ll see you in the summer. 

Love,  
Sebastian 

 

MARCH 2ND, TO SEBASTIAN  
Dear Sebastian,

I mention the flat is quiet once and you write me this. You’re ridiculous, Tiger. And you get too poetic when you leave the country. Am I the one who’s keeping you in check, or do you find London stifling? Or maybe it’s true what they say. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. And makes you sappy. 

Likening me to a monsoon was an interesting choice. You’ve written better poems, but I suppose you are rusty. Not much use for your degree in our business, is there?

I hardly see the point of sending letters when we could text, but maybe I like the idea of you checking the mail every day with bated breath. I won’t talk about work. I’m sure I’ll have texted you about it already the day this arrives. But I do hope you’re enjoying yourself, Tiger. 

The flat is quiet. The nights are long. And I do miss you. But I also don’t have to suffer through your snoring, so there are benefits.

Jim

 

MARCH 13TH, FROM SEBASTIAN  
I sipped tea on the balcony and read.  
The sun was drifting low beyond the hills,  
As Tezpur settled into nightly still,  
The Brahmaputra quiet in its bed.  
With night’s first stars appearing overhead,  
I thought of you and felt the normal thrill,  
The burning need that patience cannot kill,  
The tax I’ll pay until I’m spent or dead. 

Out here you cannot fail to see the stars,  
Unlike in London’s pale peroxide skies,  
And if in snoring I disturbed your sleep,  
In Tezpur you would think it worse by far  
To spend the night in silence counting sheep  
Than see the galaxies but hear my sighs.

If my snoring bothers you, you could get earplugs, stubborn prick.

Love,  
Sebastian.

 

MARCH 24TH, TO SEBASTIAN  
Dear Sebastian,

You’re getting worse, though I never have been a fan of sonnets. They’re too stiff for you anyway, Tiger. You’ve never been one to follow the rules. I’m sure I will like the stars, but I will hate the heat, so it’s something of a wash, isn’t it? 

Don’t spend too much time reading. You do have work to do. And I don’t see how anyone can sleep with their ears stoppered up. You need to find some way to stop the problem at its source.

Jim

 

APRIL 8TH, FROM SEBASTIAN  
You don’t like my sonnet? Then fuck it.  
You can take your opinion and chuck it.  
Could have climbed in my bed,  
I’d have given you head,  
But now I just don’t want to suck it.

Love,  
Sebastian 

 

APRIL 19TH, TO SEBASTIAN  
I’m cancelling my flight. –JM


End file.
